


Go With the Man to the Mountaintop

by fereldenpeach



Series: One-Shot Sexcerpts [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Confident Cullen, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Sneaky Cullen is Sneaky, dominant cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fereldenpeach/pseuds/fereldenpeach
Summary: OR"Rider's Posture"The Inquisitor uses her influential Inquisition Perk for Cullen's Forces:“Training in proper weight distribution during hard riding significantly increases resistance to being unseated.”In which, the Inquisitor rides her Commander...





	Go With the Man to the Mountaintop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [biowarebitch7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biowarebitch7/gifts).



> NSFW, as always.

 

“Before we adjourn our meeting, Inquisitor, how would you prefer to exact your influence?” asked Josephine, drawing ink into her quill in preparation for instruction.

Evelia glanced around her party, the demeanor of the room rife with anticipation of her next order.

“Uhhh—” she said, poking at a marker on the table.

“We have acquired several additional experts from our most recent mission,” said Cassandra, shifting her weight and casting a glance to the brooding Commander farthest from the other advisors. She watched as his large, leather-clad hands flexed against the thick wood of the war table—agitation rolling from the peak of his rumbled brow all the way through the extremities of his body—nearly vibrating the table at the end where his hands were braced.

“It is my understanding that three equestrian experts have recently joined our forces,” the Seeker continued. “They trained the Orlesian royal guard under Emperor Florian but were dismissed at the time of Empress Celene’s succession. I believe I last heard our Commander complaining about the poor riding postures of our new recruits. These experts could be put to good use.”

Evelia’s sight latched onto Cullen as he lifted his head. Amber, heavy-lidded eyes met her gray-green ones with a nudging yet enigmatic stare. “Indeed. I’ve grown quite tired of constantly fretting about when our next soldier will be thrown from their horse.”

“Weren’t we given an option to receive discounts on purchased goods from certain suppliers?” Evelia flicked her gaze to Josephine, to which the Antivan hummed in acknowledgment.

“You are correct. That connection could prove quite useful with—”

“And how will you transport these discounted goods if your riders are violently thrown to the ground and left incapacitated? Or even worse—your soldiers could ruin the backs of our horses simply because they’ve not the proper training to handle and care for their mounts.” Cullen’s voice was firm, unwavering, domineering.

“It _would_ be a wise investment, Inquisitor,” came Leliana’s slight accent from beneath the shadow of her cowl. “Especially since they've already joined the Inquisition.”

Evelia glanced back to her Commander to find his posture righted—hands loosely wrapped around the rigid line of his hilt, index finger softly tapping the head of it in wait for her answer, mouth tugging the scar of his upper lip into a devious and victorious smirk.

“Fine,” groaned Evelia, accepting her defeat with a flick of her wrist. “We’ll hire the experts to properly train our soldiers and all new recruits. Dismissed.” She huffed and turned on her heel to leave, desiring the welcoming heat of a steaming bath.

“Even _you_ could use a proper riding lesson or two, Inquisitor.”

A hiss of breath pulled between teeth and Cassandra swore to the Maker. “Commander, she is your superior!”

Evelia’s thoughts halted before her feet upon hearing the addendum uttered through that _delectable_ and _irritating_ baritone, and she scrambled to prevent from tripping over herself in response. Gathering her composure, she turned to address her Commander’s incredulous accusation.

“Umm… _Pardon_?” asked Evelia, her brow knitted, jaw clenched.

“You heard me,” he replied, his voice playful yet borderline threatening. “How do you think the Inquisition looks when its Inquisitor struggles during hard riding?”

“And I’m supposed to believe that you’re an expert?”

Tension hung thickly in the air—the three other advisors awkwardly averting any accidental eye-contact as they dodged the crosshairs of the heated argument between their Inquisitor and Commander.

“I’m better than _you_.” Cullen shrugged and flashed a dangerous smile.

Evelia gasped at the audacity of his admonition, despite how truthful it may be in all actuality.

“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry, _Commander_. _I_ was in the Circle for over half my life! They don’t keep horses in the tower if _you_ remember correctly. Forgive me for not being perfect…”

“Right,” he said, storming toward her with shrouded intention. He glared down his nose at her—a contentious yet ravenous look gleaming in his eye, his breastplate nearly brushing her shoulder as he passed. “Let’s go.”

“ _What?_ ” she asked, her inflection forceful—aspiration clinging to her last consonant.

“ _I’m_ going to show you how to ride properly _, Inquisitor._ ” Cullen stormed from the war room, the heavy footfall of his boots echoing against the long and empty hallway. And then a creak of hinges and the crack of wood against stone burst from the other end of the hall—a beckoning action that lead her to the impression that her Commander was to be obeyed.

Evelia chanced a look at Cassandra who gave a sympathetic shrug before gesturing for her Inquisitor’s leave. And with that, she marched after Cullen, anger pulsing within her temples, her jaw, her chest—but it was nothing to the feeling of glimpsing his physique mounted atop his warhorse as he waited for her to join him.

Power emanated from his stance there in the courtyard—a regality oozing from his heightened position as if a king sat atop that noble steed while he purveyed all that belong to him—and both Evelia’s heart and breath halted momentarily. Cullen said nothing as she approached the stables to mount her horse, not even following her with his gaze as she did so, but rather inspecting the stitches of his leather gloves instead. And once she joined him by his side, he proceeded through the gates of Skyhold without a word, expecting—no, _demanding_ that she follow with the simple instruction of his demeanor alone.

Cullen led her up the crags of the Frostbacks, the elevation, incline, and terrain becoming increasingly difficult to navigate with every passing moment. And with each boulder, fallen tree, and frozen stream that she cleared, Cullen was quick to offer advice—his voice calm and constructive in contrast to the harshness she had experienced in the presence of her advisors.

 _In_ _public_.

“How long must we maintain this charade, Cullen?”

“What charade?” he mused, tossing her an innocent, boyish expression.

Evelia narrowed her eyes at her secret paramour and urged her mount forward, leaving Cullen behind to groan and mumble before the quickened trot of his horse sounded next to her, yet she refrained from glancing over once he finally reached her side.

“You know how it will appear if the realm finds out that the Inquistion’s Commander and Inquisitor are fraternizing beyond the means of duty.”

“You mean fucking.” Evelia flashed him a sarcastic smirk which was met with a blush and sheepish grin.

“Yes,” he replied.

“I genuinely don't understand why there is _such_ interest in who I take between my legs,” she grumbled, knowing that discussing such matters were undoubtedly causing a smirk to fade his reddened cheeks. “But what if—” Evelia paused, allowing her thoughts to catch up with her heart, swiftly deciding against revealing her deepest and most secret of emotions.

“What if, _what_?” asked Cullen, his brow raising as he glanced over.

But almost as soon as the word left his lips, a torrential downpour splattered upon them and Cullen dashed forward into the woods, his voice booming for her to follow. She tore off behind him, paying attention not only to his direction but the feel of her body upon her horse—recalling every corrective instruction Cullen had given her in perfecting her riding posture. Hips, shoulders, and feet all adjusted to her mount’s movements, responding and guiding him as she gave chase to the man who was quickly stealing her heart.

And just as she feared that she, her Commander, and their horses would have to wait out the storm in a long-forgotten cave somewhere along the Frostbacks, the flicker of a lantern peeped invitingly between the trees just ahead.

Atop the mountain sat a small village with the bare minimum necessary for it to even be _considered_ a village—but it was a village nonetheless. Evelia had known there were other inhabitants in their area of the Frostbacks, but never had she ventured all the way to the mountaintop to find out what lay beyond Skyhold’s reach. She slowed her horse to a trot and followed Cullen toward the largest building in the area that housed a humble stable toward the back. Cullen dismounted his horse and tied him off before darting inside, shortly returning once more with a squat bearded man on his heels who proceeded to take the reins of Evelia’s horse, motioning for her to dismount.

Evelia obeyed and glanced to Cullen who gave her that delicious smirk through the rain. He slipped his hand along the length of her arm, landing his palm against hers to intertwine their fingers. Without a word, he led her into the tavern.

Heat swirled around her as soon as she crossed the threshold—the scent of herbs, fruity breads, spicy smoke and ale tickling at her nose, and Evelia immediately shrugged off her waterlogged coat in hopes of warming her bones. She inspected Cullen as he approached the barkeep, watching him speak softly while resting his folded hands atop his hilt. Noting that while his demeanor had greatly relaxed into the kind and gentle persona he often revealed to her, he still wore the air of Commander about his voice and posture. He reached into his pocket for a few coins, and a flash of gold passed into the man’s outstretched hand in exchange for two large and rusted keys. With a backward glance at his Inquisitor and a jerk of his head, Cullen proceeded toward the stairs at the back of the room.

Her boots squelched awkwardly as she followed, and he handed her one of the two keys with an unreadable expression before ascending the stairs. Evelia glanced back at the few patrons littered around tables, huddled in corners, and crowded at the fireplace to warm their hands—and they immediately averted her gaze, feigning interest back into their mundane tasks and absent conversations, absolutely _not_ keeping attention on the heads of the Inquisition as they moved toward their temporary stay.

Cullen waited for her at the top of the stairs, and she gave him a half-hearted smile once she joined him on the landing—the uncomfortable silence making their sudden distance even more apparent. But as soon as she turned to enter her own room, Cullen’s hand clasped over her wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he whispered, his breath hot next to her ear. He whisked her toward the other room and quickly opened the door, slinking her against his body and dragging her in—to which she let out a quiet and awkward yelp.

Cullen closed the door, locking it promptly before gesturing for her to take a glance behind her. Evelia spun around in his arms to find a large canopy bed at the heart of their room—its dressing extravagant with silken sheets, wool blankets, and deep red curtains secured to the posters with thick woven cords. A two-person table on the other side of the bed beneath the only window—a dinner spread lying in wait complete with an assortment of fruits, cheeses, salted meats and a bottle of wine. And a wooden tub several feet from the foot of the bed had been already prepped—its steam curling in green puffs from some sort of magical properties, with soaps and sponges and herbs nestled in a basket by its side.

“Cullen!” she exclaimed, her heart racing as she spun back around to face him.

“I believe a bit of alone time from Inquisition duties is _very_ much deserved.” He placed a finger against her cheek, dragging it down to outline her plump lips. “Especially after all of that traipsing so close to Orlais.”

“Ugh,” said Evelia, “I didn’t _traipse_ …must you be so critical of everything I do?”

Cullen shrugged. “I’m just repeating what I read in the reports, darling.” He loosed her and approached the table, peeling his gloves from his strong hands and popping a grape into his mouth with a smirk. “Your bath awaits, my lady. Or do you need instruction on how to do that properly, as well?”

“Cheeky,” Evelia grumbled and proceeded to strip herself of her boots, her leathers, her smalls—revealing her muscular yet feminine physique for his viewing pleasure. She stood there, bare breasts glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, just long enough to tease him with the front of her body before turning around and bending forward for the soaps and sponges.

And Cullen groaned at the sight—that spot between her thighs already glinting with slick in preparation for his touch. But she righted and stepped into the tub, sinking down with a sigh of relief. The heat relaxed her aching muscles, provided a welcoming sting to her scratches and bruises, and she sunk down further until she was submerged to the tops of her breasts.

Cullen had already removed half of his armor by the time she finally granted him attention, and his hardened cock pressed firmly against his leather trousers.

“Do you intend to join me, Commander?”

His eyes smoldered in response, but once he was fully undressed, he approached the side table for parchment, ink, and a quill instead.

“Really, Cullen?” she asked, swimming to the side of the tub closest to him and folding her arms over its lip to prop up her chin. “Your lover is warm, completely naked, with supple, loosened limbs and you're _still_ going to do work?”

“An army commander’s work is never done, my darling.” Cullen took a seat at the table and poured himself a generous amount of wine. He scribbled down his thoughts with a long sip from his goblet and returned it to the table, absently tugging at his hardened length.

Several long, aching moments passed—the only interruption during the stretch of their silence was the occasional trickle of water as Evelia repositioned in the tub and the pleasant scratching sounds from the quill’s nib as Cullen scribbled away with well-practiced penmanship. And once he was satisfied with his work, he reclined further in his seat to watch Evelia bathe. She had lathered her scarlet hair, suds and beads of water dripping to leave long, bubbly trails down her neck, across her breasts, off her dusky peaks. The lamplight burned a warm glow about her freshly scrubbed skin, the flickering flame casting shadows in all the dips and curves along her wet and sparkling body. And she turned those gray-green eyes up at him, feeling his hungry gaze devouring the sight before him.

And knowing that she _finally_ had gained his attention, she nibbled at her bottom lip and let one hand glide down to firmly grasp at her full chest—kneading, pinching, _squeezing_ handfuls of flesh. She tipped her head backward and submerged her hair beneath the water’s surface to rinse, teasingly dragging her fingers over her breasts, up her neck, along her jaw, and into the deep red tresses floating around her face. And when she surfaced, she found Cullen standing as if his restraint had finally been exhausted, hand softly pumping his large, rigid cock. A darkened, lustful gaze full of desirous intentions met her from across the room.

He poured Evelia and himself another glass of wine and approached the tub, extending her goblet for her to reach. Soapy fingers clasped at her wine goblet and she slid against the back of the tub to allow him to enter.

“Ahh…” Cullen hissed, sinking down opposite her.

“Too hot?” she asked, taking a long dram of her wine.

“Well, I did tell them to keep it as hot as possible prior to our arrival. I know you like it near-boiling for some Maker-forsaken reason.”

Evelia downed the rest of her wine and set her goblet onto the floor. There was little she had desired during her journey out in the Western Approach than the sound of her paramour’s voice, be it orders barked at soldiers, grumbles about his lack of sleep, or even complaints about the heat of her bath. She swam forward to press her body atop his own and snuggled into the crook of his neck. Cullen hummed softly, a pleased rumble vibrating in his throat and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close and dragging rough fingers over her warm skin as she nibbled at his earlobe and nuzzled his neck.

“I missed you,” she whispered against his skin.

“I missed you, too,” he said, pressing a kiss to her clean and fragrant hair.

She turned her chin up to find him gazing down at her, a look unlike any she had seen previously, and she glanced back and forth between his amber eyes, her heart thudding in time with her quickened breath. And before she had the chance to speak, Cullen surged forward, capturing her unexpressed words with a deep and desperate kiss.

He let his empty goblet clatter to the floor in favor of cradling her face, and he traced his tongue across her own, marking his affections in even the soft gasps against her lips. But the hardness between them desired both of their attentions, and Cullen slid his hand beneath the surface of the water, gripping around her delicate fingers that were already palming him up and down.

“How badly did you miss me?” Cullen said, his voice rumbling. He pulled her closer, spreading her knees so he could caress those smooth, silky folds at the crux of her legs.

“Terribly,” she whimpered, biting at his neck with the intention of marking him as her own. Inquisition be damned. “I could think of nothing else.”

“Did you touch yourself?” he asked, gliding his lips along her cheek and the pads of his fingers along her crease.

“Mmhmm.” 

Cullen pushed upward, sliding his middle and index finger into her until she was seated upon the knuckles of his hand, eliciting a quick and half-surprised gasp.

“Did you think of me when you touched yourself?” He spread his fingers apart within her, swirling them back and forth, coaxing her pleasure against the spot he had found during their previous and secret tryst in the library upon Dorian’s favorite chair.

“Uh huh,” she breathed, “Every time. Nearly every day. Did you?”

“You mean each time I took myself into my own hand, squeezing and stroking exactly the way you touch me?” Cullen asked, his mouth pressed against her open moans. “Of course.”

Her hips rocked against his hand, lips nipped and sucked against his own and he moaned into her mouth at the feeling of her small, soft hands working him within the water. Each flick of her thumb over his head, each upward twist of her wrist along his length, and even each whimper that left her lips sent a jolt of pleasure along his nerves, a climbing ecstasy swirling electric in the depths of his groin.

But the build-up was too much. _Andraste’s tits_ —she had only just barely touched him and he was _already_ too close. And he needed to last—this short little play in the warmth of the tub simply wouldn’t do.

Cullen slid his fingers from within his lover to clasp at the hand pumping him, gently stilling her desires and moving quickly to consume her frustration in a hot and needy kiss.

“I have other intentions for you, my darling,” he answered, her unspoken question telling from her rumpled expression. Cullen smiled and kissed her pouting lips. “Now, get out of the tub and dry off.”

With an aggravated scoff, Evelia did as she was told and stepped from the tub in search of a linen towel. She palmed the fabric over her limbs and ran a quick spell along her fingers as she swept them through her hair—drying her luscious, red locks to tease and sweep over her shoulder blades.

She stepped toward the table and took a seat, picking up a strawberry and nibbling at its tender flesh while absently musing on the curiosities of _how_ in the realm this little village had acquired such fruit, and _how_ she had managed to catch and keep the affections of the most desirable man in Thedas. She grabbed the bottle of wine and took a long dram, dragging the back of her finger across the edge of her lips to swipe away the cabernet sauvignon lasciviously escaping from the corner of her mouth.

And suddenly Cullen stood from the bath—his body scrubbed and fresh, droplets gliding through his chiseled features—and he cast a warm glance at her as he toweled his body, lastly grazing the cloth over his still incredibly hard cock. Fingers raked through his wet hair, brushing those golden locks away from his face, and Cullen tossed the linen aside and silently proceeded to the bed without a word.

No word was needed.

Their room teemed of shameless want and desire—a shared and tantalizing electricity that was both unstated and completely understood. Cullen found himself seated comfortably on the edge of the bed—legs wide and cock bobbing—thoroughly enjoying their little game as he watched his paramour squirm on her chair. But Evelia desperately wanted to approach him, needing to glide her hands down the ropey muscles of his hardened physique, needing to feel his cock spread the depths of her body, needing his gentle touch and the comfort of knowing she was completely safe in his warm and possessive embrace. And she took in a sharp and anxious inhale once he finally encouraged her to join him.

“Evelia,” he said, patting his thigh in invitation.

Just the sound of her name rumbling through the deep timbre of his voice sent her heart aflutter somewhere beneath her ribcage—breath quickening with each step as she approached, and his hands slithered around her when she took her seat on his left thigh. The point of a finger lifted her chin for her to look at him directly, but a sudden flash of realization sparked over those golden eyes and he glanced down to the crux of her legs just _barely_ open.

“What’s this?” he mused, his middle and index fingers gently parting her folds to reveal the slick glistening from the glow of the lamplight.

“Maker. Still so wet for me.” It wasn’t a question but an affirmation—voicing his approval of just how much she truly craved him. Cullen’s voice was husky, dangerous—accompanied with sharp teeth that nipped and sucked at her plumping lips until they opened to allow his tongue to slip against her sweet and welcoming mouth. But he refrained from properly kissing her, his lips hovering, taunting—the ghost of a kiss that would undoubtedly wind her tighter than she would like—and he wanted her that way. Wanted her prepared for the onslaught he was soon to unleash upon her pretty, wet little cunt.

“Cullen—” she whined, unsatisfied with his barely-there touch.

“Yes, darling?” he answered, gripping her tightly around the back in his left arm to pull her closer, broad palm cradling the nape of her neck while his right cupped, caressed, and kneaded at every inch of her that he could.

“I need—”

“You _need_?” His voice was incredulous, threatening on a scold, while faint laughter trickled through his words. “Shall I have you beg for me?”

A small gasp escaped her mouth and her nipples tightened even further in response, to which a satisfied chuckle rolled throughout Cullen’s chest. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Down on your knees, begging for me?”

He let the pad of his thumb slip through her dripping folds, brushing against that hardened bundle of nerves that desperately desired his touch, his rough attentions, his hot mouth—anything to alleviate the ache building tightly within the walls of her center. A moan escaped on an exhale and Cullen needed no other response. His spine wiggled in his seated position and he pushed himself further back upon the bed so he could fully recline, and Evelia grasped at his knees to keep from toppling from his lap.

Plump lips smirked at her confusion and he curled his index finger, beckoning for her to climb on top. “Come here.”

Evelia eagerly obeyed, scaling his body as quickly as she could until she was mounted upon his hips, hands braced against the rippling muscle of his abdomen, cunt slipping across his hardened cock beneath her. Cullen groaned, his head thrown back as he relished the sensation of her wet heat gliding back and forth. It took everything in him to muster his refusal.

“No,” he growled, “come _here_.” He gripped her around the waist and hauled her to his chest, positioning her so she could ease forward and seat herself atop his hungry mouth.

She draped her thighs on either side of his beautiful, golden curls, lowering until she could feel the heat of his breath against the cooling slick dripping from within. Cullen opened his mouth, his tongue laid flat and inviting as if he were catching snowflakes on a bright winter morning. But it was her hot cunt in the dark of the night that he desired—wanting to slurp, to lick, to drink and to taste in hopes of consuming the very essence of her being. Cullen secretly desired her sweet and unique flavor over every single exotic consumable in Thedas—and the bright and delectable morsel he so desperately craved hovered just inches away from his watering mouth. And he could bear it no longer.

Anxious fingers clapped to her hips and he pulled, their lips finally meeting to elicit long and desirous moans—hers swirling up to the ceiling between near-soundless pants while his pooled against her delectable folds, vibrations teasing and thrumming throughout her tender flesh.

She rolled her hips over his face, grazing her slippery cunt over his eagerly lapping tongue, thighs prickling from the light stubble along his jaw, his cheeks, his lips. He open-mouth kissed her, drawing her folds into his mouth with obscene slurps and moans, flicking his tongue over and around her sensitive nub until she was panting his name. But she drew in a sharp inhale when his broad hands smoothed over her body—one landing at the small of her back, the other clasping gingerly at her lower abdomen. Palms flexed as he moved her, positioning her over him _just_ right, just so that he—

“Cullen?”

Evelia’s eyes popped open and she looked down, watching as his head worked back and forth against each roll and grind of her hips. Unintelligible moans of enjoyment streamed from between her thighs in response.

“Are you correcting my riding posture?”

Those heavy-lidded, amber eyes glanced up at her, teeth grazing a light tease against her cunt before extracting himself enough from his buried position to speak.

“I told you you could use a lesson or two.” His mouth twitched into a devilish smirk—scar lifting, eyes crinkling, and he swiped a lick against the soft skin of her thigh. Without giving her the opportunity to protest his intentions, he pulled her back down upon his face, driving his tongue up into her with a dark and heavy moan.

“Oh!” shouted Evelia, irritation intertwining with wanton mewls, caring very little should any of her tavern neighbors hear her broken cries. Her fingers dug into his dampened curls, nails scraping along his scalp, and she rolled her hips between the broad splay of his palms while he fucked her with his tongue.

And he _devoured_ her—lips, teeth, tongue all dancing over every inch of that beautiful spot where he had buried himself, drinking in both her delicious taste and the glorious sight of her grinding onto his face. Her eyes were squeezed tight—fists clenching, legs shaking, mouth hanging slack on a moan—and she tilted her hips forward, forcing her clit against his tongue where he receptively gave his undivided attention. Wet heat caressed, flicked, and sucked over that little bud and he groaned, latching onto and lapping against it with a newfound desire and rising impatience to hilt his hardened cock as high up into her as possible and _completely_ fuck her senseless.

With a crescendo of near-panting screams, Evelia’s orgasm burst from within, the build-up traveling throughout the length of her nerves—prickling her nipples, her scalp—curling both her fingers and toes. Her body stiffened as she drenched Cullen’s face and he growled all the more, working his lips side to side to ensure every pleasurable throb beat against him until she was motionless and spent.

With a satisfied hum, she opened her eyes and glanced down to find the smug smile from before had darkened—an unquenchable lust stiffening his jaw into a near snarl as he hauled her from his face and down onto his lap. She yelped awkwardly, which normally would have been met with a laugh in return, but Cullen’s intentions had overridden the atmosphere in the room. His desire was palpable, unmovable, and nothing could interfere his undying need to be hilted inside the woman he was so helplessly falling for.

Evelia raked her nails over his abdomen until they rasped through his dark curls, prompting a frustrated growl from between his teeth. The heaviness of his cock lay before her, twitching with need—and she ran a firm hand down the length of it, smoothing his skin toward the base. With a swipe across her plump lips, she hitched herself just right, placing the head of his cock at the apex of her legs and swiftly sunk down—her body stretching around his warm and solid girth and Cullen threw his head back once again with a pained gasp, encapsulated in near-euphoria.

He clamored to a seated position with Evelia squirming triumphantly on his lap as if she had finally conquered him—a teasing and naughty smile spreading her lips just for him, a smile that lead him to believe that she had not one inkling of the ravaging forces he was about to unleash upon her. He lowered his head and cradled her face, capturing her mouth in a tender exchange of heat—the taste of strawberries and wine mixing with the bright flavor of her slick.

But it wasn’t enough. He wanted her fucked and sore and claimed as his own. Cullen nipped at her lower lip before lunging upward to grip at the canopy rail, causing Evelia to cling to his body in a panic as he lifted from the mattress.

“Now, _show_ me how you can ride.”

Standing completely from the bed, Cullen rolled his hips. He knew that Evelia would have to use every muscle in her body to prevent from toppling to the ground, and she grasped at his glistening shoulders, nails digging into his flesh—the upward lift of his thrusts jolting her up only to come crashing down on his rigid length, impaling her over and over and over. Legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing behind his back. She squeezed her thighs against his obliques, working her hips with his until she finally found his rhythm. And she began to ride.

It took all her might to keep his pace, but Evelia moved in time with Cullen, reading his body and anticipating his change in motions—to which he tried to keep her guessing, pumping erratically into her as quickly as possible, and then dragging the heavy weight of his cock in longer, more powerful assaults. And her body moved accordingly—a flowing ripple of breasts, abdomen, and hips married in perfect synchronization.

Cullen growled and surged forward, keeping his grip on the railing above. But his teeth clicked in a failed attempt to bite at her neck as she leaned away from him—her thighs pressing along his sides to assist her bouncing undulations, breasts jiggling, muscles tightening, slippery wet cunt drenching his cock and sac beyond what attentions his mouth had given her only moments before.

Breaths slipped between parted mouths as she rode him, and she willed every ounce of her strength to continue her conquest of his body. It was hers—all hers—and she would take him as hard as she pleased. Her belly flexed through their dance, their pants and grunts were her tempo, the smacking of flesh her encouragement, and she squeezed him within until he felt as if the thickness of his cock and the force of his hips would rend her in two. A long and impatient growl escaped from Cullen’s mouth.

He released his hold on the canopy rail and gripped at her hips, turning toward the wall to grant her screaming muscles a reprieve. She slammed against it, sweat-slicked back pressed to the rough wood, and he proceeded to fuck her with fervor—all the pent-up anticipation unleashed upon her swollen and aching cunt.

He drove into her, letting her collapse onto his cock only to be thrust upward, his sac smacking her ass just the way she liked. And she wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging him closer, wanting to feel more than his breath and her own moans slipping over her lips. But he refrained from kissing her, feeling her cunt tightening with shallow pulses around his cock with the start of her orgasm, wanting her to ride out the climbing and buzzing warmth for as long as he allowed.

And Cullen was merciless—the snap of his hips powerful, the harshness of his motions intentional, needing her to feel and to know and to acknowledge that it was _he_ who was giving her this pleasure, _he_ was the one thrusting his cock high up into her belly—the man she had fantasized about for the last few months—the man who had touched himself and called out her name until they could share in this heated moment of lust-filled desperation and unadulterated bliss.

And she was his.

Even though the words hadn’t yet been spoken, she was his. And he was hers.

Evelia’s back arched away from the wall, her breasts pressing forward and Cullen palmed her toward his mouth—sucking and licking her sweaty peaks. Hands scrambled for purchase as she lost control of her legs, her orgasm igniting from within to throttle his cock and prickle her skin, eyes squeezing shut, face rumpling with ecstasy, lips spilling his name in praise and affirmations. And finally, Cullen allowed himself to come, the buildup releasing in long and throbbing spurts as he roared his pleasure. He jolted within her, his forceful thrusts stuttering to an uneven pace as they subsided, and he watched those hazy, gray-green eyes open to give him an unfamiliar look. 

A strange emotion swept through his chest and Cullen pulled her from the wall to carry her to the bed. He finally withdrew from her to lay her down, to which she shyly covered her breasts with her forearms and wiggled away so that he could join her. And he quickly folded his body alongside hers, eager to retain the closeness of which they had just shared—an intimate moment built upon more than the nakedness of their bodies and the heated connection of their sex. But Cullen wasn’t sure how much longer it would be before those unspoken moments revealed themselves for what they were, or how long he could keep from uttering those simple words that had never come easy.

“Cullen, I—“ Evelia said, a blush tinting her cheeks behind the sparkling sheen of sweat.

“What is it, darling?” he asked, palming her face and gliding his thumb over her flushed skin. His heart raced suddenly, a response to the anticipation of learning her innermost thoughts—thoughts he was beginning to believe were quickly aligning with his own.

Evelia sucked in her bottom lip, nibbling in contemplation.

“I—”

Cullen swallowed, his amber eyes flicking back and forth as he gazed into her telling eyes.

“Am I _really_ that bad at horseback riding?”

A broad smile spread Cullen's lips and his eyes crinkled, a hearty yet nervous chuckle rumbling through the air between them.

“No. But you had been gone for so long—I needed a convincing reason to steal you away, and keep you for my own. If only just for tonight.”

Evelia brought her hands up to cup Cullen’s face, and she gently smushed his cheeks.

“You said _convincing_. That means it’s true.”

Cullen laughed, his hands sliding around her to pull her to his chest, their bodies sticking together in a mess of love-slick and sweat. He pressed warm kisses to her cheek, leaving trails of his devotion and worship along her face, her neck, her shoulder, and he swallowed down his apprehension—the tremble in his chest and belly worse than any nerves he had felt facing his most dangerous adversaries.

“I can tell you something else that’s true,” he said softly, voice nearly breaking.

“Oh?”

Cullen breathed in a shaky breath and exhaled.

“I—I don’t exactly…the things I feel. Ev, when I’m with you…it’s unlike anything I’ve ever… Ugh, _Maker_.”

Evelia surged forward—leaving a soft, delicate, yet passionate kiss upon his lips.

“Cullen, I love you.”

His heart thrashed and his breath nearly stopped, watching as she gave him a sheepish smile—one of which he was only too happy to return. For the very first time in his entire life, he experienced no uncertainty of his next decision—for an overwhelming relief met with anticipation for everything that was to come washed over his heart and soul.

“I love you, Evelia. I love you.”

Cullen sighed with relief and closed what little space of distance they shared between them, and he quickly swallowed her near-sob of elation with a long and ardent kiss—his newfound arousal apparent from the hardness pressing against her belly. And he stole away the rest of the night, making love to and with his secret paramour—the woman he had admired, desired, and loved for longer than he had realized—the woman he knew would keep his heart until the end of his days.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr prompt from [@ekoorb03](http://ekoorb03.tumblr.com) (0102and03) and [@thirsty4bioware](http://thirsty4bioware.tumblr.com/) (biowarebitch7). I hope you enjoyed, ladies!
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> Fic title inspired by [Mountaintop by Devin Townsend](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5b7oMdmZm4).   
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> [fereldenpeach.tumblr.com](http://fereldenpeach.tumblr.com)


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